I Was Wearing Someone Else's Armor

To fight my battles. I had to learn to use my own. 

When I came to America with fifty dollars in my pocket in 1983, I had a five year plan. Get in, get your education. Get out. I started out as an au pair for a divorcee, a CIA operative* with a precocious five year old girl. I also worked other jobs to pay my way through college. Five years flew by and Memories are for Storytelling, so I stayed and created some beautiful ones.   

But when you set roots somewhere for thirty-seven years and you still don't identify as being fully American, then it deserves some looking in the mirror.  Because badges of belonging matter.  

***

Whose armor? Everyone's actually. 

And what quarantine has gifted me is the time and ability to gate out noise and distractions, to stay true and committed to a NOW time goal, versus a short term or long term goal. I am grateful for that luxury of time in this chapter of my life.
  
*Disclaimer: based on the events witnessed and my putting two and two together. 

Mama Shujaa xoxoxo





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